


this house that love built

by elinciacrimea



Series: relive [2]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Shin Ankoku Ryuu to Hikari no Ken | Fire Emblem: Shadow Dragon, Fire Emblem: Shin Monshou no Nazo | Fire Emblem: New Mystery of the Emblem
Genre: Background Minerva/Palla, Character Study, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Mostly Canon Compliant, Multi, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23838775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinciacrimea/pseuds/elinciacrimea
Summary: Lena walks the path to finding a family, and learns the many meanings of "belonging."This is a sort of sister-fic to "Leave The Ruins Where They Fall," focused on the fates of the other two priestesses. Both fics stand fine on their own and can be read in either order.
Relationships: Julian/Lena (Fire Emblem), Lena & Maria (Fire Emblem)
Series: relive [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717750
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	this house that love built

**Author's Note:**

> It's Loving Lena Fireemblem Hours time.
> 
> I used Lena's serenesforest bio as a base for her (not shared in-game) backstory and also drew some influences from the FE1 manga and the OVAs, but this is mostly based in the FE11/12-verse (as well as the bonus chapters/Archanea Saga) though I tweaked some things to fit my purposes!

Lena's childhood is foggy and gray. She can remember a house, one she thought ordinary at the time but came to see as extravagant once she reached adulthood. She can remember playing with Matthis, chasing him through those ornate halls until he tackled her to the ground and they both shrieked with laughter. A time when she shoved her meat onto her brother's plate because she didn't like it, and Mother must have noticed, but she only shook her head. Digging holes in the garden, riding horses over the hills, explaining away scraped knees and torn dresses. Only the three of them, in a moment of peace.

Her father was rarely home. Lena knows she must have seen him, at least sometimes, but those memories are too shrouded to reach. She does not know his face.

She remembers his voice, though. She would hear it shouting, behind closed doors, and her mother pale and shaking, brow tight with fury. Lena and Matthis stopped playing their games inside, because it would make Father mad. Lena's seventh birthday was quiet, just her, her mother, and a cupcake in the dining room, and Matthis forgot it altogether, because he was too old and had more _important_ things to do.

Most of all, though, in details more strong and vivid than any fight or moment of bliss, Lena remembers the dead of night, when her mother woke her, took her hand without speaking a word, and they climbed through Lena's bedroom window and down a ladder and out across the dark yard.

"We aren't his," Lena remembers her mother saying, their hands clenched together as they ran through the woods. "We never were."

"Whose are we?" Lena asked her.

"Nobody's," her mother said quietly, rain catching in the curls of red hair that slip free from her hood. "Only ours, and the gods'."

Lena never knows what made Mother choose that time to flee, and why she brought Lena along while leaving Matthis behind. But once she is much older, she begins to know the shape of another truth.

\---

They take refuge in a priory, one where her mother was employed before her marriage. Lena begins to train as a cleric, slipping in neatly among the other women even though she is by far the youngest there, and there are peaceful days, for a time. Lena's mother rarely smiles, though, and never laughs, her face grave and tired when she thinks Lena isn't looking, and it is in those days that Lena first vows to never marry.

When Lena is nine, her mother suffers from an affliction of the heart. When she is ten, her mother dies, Lena's hand clasped in her shaking one, and she leaves behind no words of comfort or encouragement, even the ability to speak robbed from her by illness. All that is left of her is her Mend staff and her pendant, which Lena wears for the rest of her days, hanging over her robes, a token of a love she comes to scarcely remember.

The sisters could care for Lena, but instead it is her mother's father who comes to the priory some months later. Lena's grandfather has eyes and hands as gentle as his daughter's, but Lena is still fearful, trusting nature shaken by the loss of her only true parent.

"You're a good girl, Lena," her grandfather muses as he watches her at her studies. "You wish to be a cleric?"

"Yes," says Lena softly as she lowers her mother's staff (she will never stop thinking of it as hers, not truly.)

"Why?" Colin's eyes are soft, but there's something calculating in his steady gaze.

"Well…" Lena swallows. "I…"

"Is it because this is the life you were born into?" her grandfather asks. "Because it is what your mother did?"

"No." Lena shakes her head. "I would be a healer no matter who I was. I want to help people. I want to heal them. Mother was an honorable bishop, but it is not because of her that I train in medicine. It is because I want to."

"I see." Colin's face crinkles in a broad smile. "Then perhaps you can accompany me after all."

"Grandfather?"

"I spent my life studying the staff," says Colin, his face soft with reminiscence. "But I was never a pious man, not truly. I had no interest in joining the faith. Ariana did, and she came to be very acclaimed - but I never favored the limelight much. I am a traveling healer, and I move through the villages of Grust in an effort to help her people. It is not an easy life. It will be far harder than having a warm bed to come home to in the priory. And I don't want to bring you along on my journey unless it is what you truly want."

"You help people?"

"I heal them," says Colin simply. "I like to think that helps."

"I serve the gods," says Lena quietly. "But I want to aid people, and I don't care whether it is in their name."

"You have some of your mother in you," says Colin. "But you have nothing of your father. That fascinates me."

"I do not remember my father," says Lena tightly.

"Very well," says her grandfather. "If you wish to accompany me on my travels, then that is your choice to make."

So Lena leaves the priory behind. Her grandfather spoke the truth - it is not an easy life, in the end. And she has no home to call her own. But for the rest of her days, Lena will know helping people, and know her purpose.

\---

Grandfather has a staff that he never uses.

He has many staves, of course, healing and mending and warping and all kinds of things Lena only knows the theory of how to use. But there is one kept away from the others, one that Grandfather keeps with his own things and never shows to her, and Lena doesn't even know if he knows she knows it exists.

She gets up the nerve to ask one day when she is twelve, and Grandfather takes the staff from its wrapper and lays it across her lap. It is gold, and slightly heavier than the ones she's wielded in the past, and the crest at the top reminds Lena of a bird taking flight.

"Hammerne," Grandfather says, tapping one finger against that crest. "And that is her emblem, that of the phoenix born again. Do you know who Hammerne was, Lena?"

"No," Lena says, honestly. "I have never heard of this staff before."

"Ariana wouldn't have told you," Colin says, sitting down across from Lena. "But you know, your mother was nobility, and not just because she married your father. Ariana's father...my husband...was a descendant of Lady Hammerne herself. Hammerne was Iote's cousin, who served alongside him in the war long, long ago. She was one of the first slaves to escape at his side, and helped him shape Macedon before it even was a nation itself."

"I have not heard of her."

"Unless you study the war extensively, you won't. Hammerne was never famous. She was a healer, and worked from the back lines to support her king. She retired quietly, was married, and her descendants have guarded her staff for generations to come. By now, it has been long enough that our line is no longer related to, and would never even be considered for, the throne of Macedon. I'm afraid I won't be able to introduce you to the king any time soon."

"What does the staff do?"

"It heals not flesh, but wood and metal. Hammerne created it...or was blessed by it...to repair her allies' weapons in a time when it was difficult to procure any."

"I suspect I will have little use for it, then," says Lena.

"Your grandfather and mother never thought much of it, either. But it is yours, you know. I have only kept it safe for you, all these years. And I know the theory of its use, if you wish to learn it. Though I suspect, with your mother's blood, you would need little assistance..."

"An ancient bloodline doesn't mean anything to me." Lena bows her head as she passes the staff back to him. "Thank you, Grandfather. But I wish to heal people, not weapons of war. I have my mother's Mend, and that is enough for me."

"I understand." Colin picks up the staff and gets to his feet. "Spoken as a true cleric would."

\---

"I shall never get married, Grandfather," Lena says once, when she is fifteen.

Colin's eyebrows lift. "Wherever did that come from, little one?"

"From myself." Lena is stubborn when she wishes to be, and her ears heat as she continues her mending, but does not look up from the neat stitches. "I have chosen to take a vow to the gods. I will be theirs, and none else's."

"You have no interest in love, then?"

"I would not say no interest," Lena says carefully. "But I am choosing not to ever act upon that interest. I believe that would cause me nothing but grief."

"I see," says Colin slowly. "Did you get this from your mother?"

"It was not her suggestion," says Lena. "But I saw what marriage to my father did to her. I do not wish to feel how she did - to be trapped, and in the possession of another."

"I see," says Colin again. "Well, whatever makes you feel happy and comfortable, little Lena. I am certain that the gods will love you, whether you keep this vow or not. And I have no objections, myself. But your grandfather and I loved each other very much, you know. I never once felt trapped when we were wed."

"I am happy with the gods."

"Of course, of course." Her grandfather pats her shoulder. "I won't trouble you any further, little one. I support whatever it is you wish to do."

\---

"Feel the magic of the earth," Lena tells the young girl. "A mage's strength draws from the land below them and the wind above."

Marisha's eyes are bright as she curls her hands around the healing staff. "That's why magic doesn't work on horseback, right?"

"Exactly." Lena guides Marisha's hands along the staff. "To use a staff or tome, you must be connected to the earth at all times."

"I understand _that,"_ says Marisha. "I'm not an idiot. But this heal staff is boring. When will you teach me harder things?"

From an adult, or even an adolescent, Lena would have long since lost patience. But this girl is no older then ten, probably younger still, and yet she'd whined and pleaded to be Lena's apprentice with the attitude of one used to getting her way. And Lena can't be everywhere at once. Teaching another to heal is more fruitful then trying to heal everyone herself.

So Lena takes a deep breath and does not let the smile fall from her face. "Once you've mastered the basics, you can move along to more powerful magic. Besides, I myself only have a few staves."

"You could teach her Hammerne," calls Grandfather, from where he sits in a rocking chair by the fire, having tea with Marisha's grandmother. "After all, you'll need a successor, won't you?"

"Hammerne?" Marisha lights up. "What's that?"

"It's a very special staff," says Lena, seeing an opportunity. "I'll train you with it once you've mastered these healing ones. All right?"

Marisha ponders.

"The staff has been passed down my family for generations," Lena continues, "on my mother's side. And you would be only one of two people living who could use it. But I can only trust you with it if you're able to heal."

"We-ell…" Marisha tilts her head. "Such a rare staff would suit Marisha, it's true…"

"Wouldn't it?"

"All right," Marisha concedes. "But no more of these silly theoretical lessons. Let us find an injured person, so I can practice my newfound talents. After all, if I am the image of a dutiful cleric, then I'm certain I'll be a more desirable bride…" She clasps her hands to her cheeks, letting her staff clatter to the floor. "Ah! Silly Marisha! So embarrassing…"

"Right," says Lena quickly, wondering how such a young child has found these ideals. "Let's go find someone to heal."

Grandfather winks at her from beside the fire.

\---

It is more than ten years after her mother's death when Lena's life changes again.

Her grandfather has gotten too old to travel, and retired peacefully to a small Grust village. Lena entrusts Hammerne to him and continues her duties, circling through the country and healing the wounded. The work is unforgiving as ever, but Lena finds peace in it, journeying from Grust into Macedon as her slow travels take her from village to village.

The work only grows harder when war breaks out. The king is dead, the circumstances vague, and his eldest son Michalis has taken the throne, allying with the dragon kingdom. And as the Dolhr army marches through the streets to conquer Gra, Grust, Altea, Aurelia, even Archanea - destruction is left in its wake, poison seeping through the land. Money dries up, food and supplies go to the soldiers, and Lena does what she can, but every day she watches Macedon crumble further, fewer and fewer can be saved, and her despair grows with it.

And the king does nothing - reverent whispers of deliverance turn to frightened, angry mutters. The patrols run in King Osmond's day have ended, and bandits run rampant. Disease and famine spread as the soldiers take without giving back, and the young and healthy are conscripted into service. The young king Michalis's name becomes one associated with pain, and poverty, and fear, and Lena listens to it all hopelessly as she tries to scrounge together enough gruel to feed the village children.

And then one day, Lena opens the door to the dusty inn where she's found shelter, and an unfamiliar, middle-aged man stands up from the bar and makes his way towards her.

"Lena?" The man is wearing an elaborate doublet, and his hair is pink, liberally streaked with gray. "Is that truly you?"

"Can I help you?" Lena manages, hand clenching on the staff at her back (as if it would do her any good.)

"It took me so long to track you," the man continues, as if not hearing her. "At long, long last." His hand falls onto her shoulder, and Lena cannot stop herself from flinching backwards, banging her heel against the door behind her as she lurches away.

"Ah, you don't recognize me," the man says, finally taking note of Lena's discomfort. "I should have known, with how long it's been...It's me, Lena. Lord Erhardt of Macedon. Your father."

Lena freezes.

"I've missed you so," says Lord Erhardt, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes - cold, dark eyes. "Look at you. The hair of Iote and those strong eyes to match - you are your mother's spitting image. A beautiful young woman. My Lena."

_We aren't his. We never were._

"So long, so long. And you grew up without me. A terrible shame. And Matthis - he was so saddened when you were taken from us. He is eagerly looking forward to seeing you again."

"Matthis?" Lena asks before she can stop herself. "Is he safe?"

"He has entered His Majesty's esteemed service," says Erhardt, dark eyes glittering. "As have I. Michalis is not like his father - he is bringing Macedon to a new era. An era that you can be a part of too, Lena."

"What is it you wish of me?" Lena is relieved that her voice does not tremble.

"To come home, my child. Back to the capital, nay - to the castle. Where your brother and I have taken up roles in the royal court, in service to our king. You know, I have spoken of you to His Majesty. He is eager to meet you."

"What need has the king of one like me?"

"King Michalis is in need of advisors, and one who has spent so much time among the peasantry - why, you would be an invaluable addition. You are such an altruistic girl. Perhaps you can use that altruism in our court."

"The people are suffering, Father," Lena says. "This war has brought them nothing but despair. Would the king really listen to me?"

"As I say, he is willing to speak with you," Erhardt says smoothly. "It is true that His Majesty is quite busy with matters of state and the like. With all of his hard work, it is no wonder that such little matters have escaped his notice. I have made efforts myself, you know, to undo the damages of war. But alas, my own noble heritage is not as strong as your mother's. She was a descendant of Iote's own family, you know. Your hair is a token of that, isn't it? Regardless, my hands are tied. But perhaps you can help His Majesty learn the people's struggle...if you only accompany me. You would have the support of the people behind you - the Angel of Macedon, I've heard you called."

Lena's face heats. "I do not care for that nickname."

"Your mother was a healer, too," Erhardt continues, as if Lena doesn't know. "It is a noble calling, yes...but serving His Majesty would be nobler still. You could save many lives, not merely the ones you find with your own hands."

Lena hesitates.

"You would be a lady, Lena," says Erhardt. "You could have anything you ever wished. Anything at all - even a better life for those commonfolk you so care for. "

Lena's first instinct is to reject the offer, and flee. After all, her own mother gave up everything to escape a life in Macedon's upper class. Why should Lena walk back to it?

And yet, there is only so much one cleric can do. A lady can do more. And the glittering, expectant look in her father's eyes...

"Very well," says Lena at last. "Allow me to gather my things."

"Of course, my dear." Her father bows low. "Let us return to the court that is your birthright. They will all be so astonished to see you."

Lena has never been good at saying no.

\---

The court of Macedon is like no place Lena has ever known. In the finery her father selected, that cherished red hair pinned up high, she still manages to feel dowdy, country, out of place - and even moreso, she feels the eyes on her, hundreds of gazes crawling over her face and back, no matter how she tries to evade them.

Only Matthis is happy to see her, driven nearly to tears when their eyes first meet. Lena hardly recognizes him, but he recounts their adventures as children with a wistful expression, and she can only nod along. Her father seems impatient with him, though, quickly dismissing him away to his work.

Matthis is, apparently, not important enough for a position at the war council, but Lena sits at her father's right hand. She is introduced to them all - Macedon's generals, their diplomats, their advisors, and a few skulking men in heavy cloaks that Lena can only suspect are manaketes. She dares not ask.

The most formal introduction is to King Michalis himself. He wears no armor, merely fine silks, and there is no crown on his brow, only the flowing red locks of Iote that make an even firmer mark of kings than any circlet. At his side, always standing and never seated, is his finest general and younger sister, Princess Minerva, with armor as red as her hair and the most stone-carved face Lena has ever seen.

Everyone at the council, save Lena herself, is armed. Elegant rapiers, blades poorly-concealed in doublets or worn brazenly on thigh holsters or hips - and then there are the generals, with massive axes and lances slung over their backs. Princess Minerva stands out most of all - the axe she carries seems to be of an unique make, black and gold and red, and is nearly as tall as she is - an impressive feat, as Lena is certain the woman is well over six feet, tall even for Macedon royalty.

Michalis, however, carries no weapon. Michalis _needs_ no weapon. His words are silk-smooth and elegant, even moreso than any of the fine lords and ladies at court, but there is something lurking between them, something raw and aflame, and his rare smiles never once reach his eyes.

Still, despite her fear, Lena speaks. Even as her voice trembles, she speaks of the struggles of the land, and several of the diplomats spring to agree with her, their own eyes wide with fear and hope as they lay their hearts before their king. And Michalis listens, or appears to listen, at the end nodding and saying that he will consider her proposal.

She is treated with respect. They all call her Lady Lena, and curtsy when she passes, and after a lifetime of little more than poverty, the sensation of nobility makes Lena feel false, wrong-footed. But a few of the suggestions she make seem to penetrate Michalis's cool exterior, and a few laws change, a few reparations are made. No soldiers can be spared to dispatch the bandits, but effort is made towards forming local militias, and Lena is shocked, but grateful, that the king seems to at least care some for his people, even as cold as the royal siblings appear. Or perhaps it is all part of some twisted political game Lena cannot begin to understand - it is impossible for her to see past those identical red eyes.

There is another princess, Lena knows, but nobody seems to ever make mention of the girl, she has never been sighted in the palace, and Lena does not even know her name. Michalis has mentioned her, once or twice - on a diplomatic mission abroad, though the circumstances seem murky. Minerva always seems to stiffen still further at the mention of it. The second princess seems to be yet another of the dark, cloudy mysteries that lurk between words at council.

"I do not mean to be rude, your Majesty," says one of the advisors - an elderly man, one who likely served before Michalis's father was even king. "But how much longer will this war rage on?"

"As long as needed to purge Archanea's filth from the continent," says Michalis idly, twirling his quill between gloved fingertips. "My father left us quite the mess to clean, it is true - but that does not change the fact that Archanea killed him. Such a crime cannot be allowed to stand, can it?"

"It is merely - " The advisor hesitates. "Your Majesty truly cannot be condoning - "

Faster than thought, a black-and-gold axe flies free. It buries itself in the table, just beside the ill-fated man's hand, the blade quivering only once before freezing. Nobody in the room breathes, much less the diplomat - save the king himself, who looks downright bored as he gives the weapon a disparaging glance.

"You must forgive my sister," says Michalis, words silken as the movement of a snake. "She angers so easily, you see. Particularly when my rule is called into question."

Minerva tugs that massive axe free of the table with little effort, even as the wood around it splinters, and hauls it back into its holster as though it weighs no more than a toothpick. She then resumes her stance, silent and watchful as ever.

"Now then." Michalis folds his hands on the table in front of him. "Where were we?"

Lena clenches her own hands in her lap to stop them shaking, trying to look anywhere but at the duo with blazing hair.

Michalis needs no weapon. _Minerva_ is his weapon.

\---

Lena rarely goes anywhere save her quarters unaccompanied by her father or Matthis (who is meeker and less kind than she remembers him, their conversations dull and stilted, a rift driven between brother and sister by the different parents who raised them.) Strange whispers have followed Lena in the halls since she came to the castle, and they only seem to pick up in speed the more time she spends there. She cannot seem to trace their source, and they carry some maliciousness, but she often catches a murmur of her name. When she approaches the gossipers, they always spring apart and look guilty.

The whispers all come into perfect clarity one council meeting, six months after Lena's arrival in the capital. They should have far before, but Lena has always been naive.

"The lady of the hour," one of the generals says, the moment Lena enters the hall. "Please, do sit down."

Lena looks questioningly to her father at her side. He is grinning beneath his beard, but he only nods to her seat, and so she takes it, folding her hands in her lap. "Is there something I must do, my lords?"

"It's time to discuss the terms of your engagement, of course," says one of the advisors brightly. "You must have wondered why it has taken so long - but His Majesty wanted to ensure you were a suitable candidate before things became official. He was quite pleased, however, and you'll be happy to hear things will be continuing apace."

"My…" Lena stammers. "En...gagement?"

"Of course!" One of the diplomats looks slightly surprised. "To His Majesty, of course? Whatever did you think we were speaking of, all this time?"

Lena stares at Michalis. He looks rather bored, but there is a faint smile playing about his lips. Beside him, Minerva is still as ever, but shrewd red eyes are fixed on Lena's, and Lena quickly lowers her own gaze to her lap.

"Your mother was descended from Lady Hammerne, cousin of Iote, and you carry her blood," says another diplomat, as if discussing the weather. "The union between the two of you would produce powerful children, blessed in both magic and might."

"Isn't it an honor, Lena?" her own father asks, and she cannot look at him, cannot meet those cold eyes. "To join our families as one would be a feat for the ages, yes?"

Lena's breath comes short and fast, and she tries desperately to steady it.

_We are not his._

You _are not his._

Lena was not selected for her mind, or her experience, or her skill with people. She was selected for her blood and blood alone. To marry the king. The king whose policies starve people in the streets. That was what her father wanted, why he sought her out, all alone. To wed this man, who has his opponents killed, who leaves the dead piled in his wake, all to gain favor with Dolhr.

She feels as if she's going to be sick.

"Then, to clear any further doubts, I shall make my formal proposal." Lena glances up to see Michalis place a hand just inside his jacket. He draws free a small box, one that makes Lena's stomach clench with nausea as he flips it open.

The ring is beautiful. It is gold, set with glittering red stones. Even Princess Minerva's eyes flit briefly to it.

"This ring was my mother's," says Michalis. "And it would be yours, Lady Lena. Would you do me the honor of giving me your hand in marriage?"

Lena can't breathe. The world is closing, slowing, narrowing to that open box, and she can hear nothing but the whir of air within her own ears (and, if she strains, her mother's ragged breathing and frantic footsteps over manor grounds.)

"I…" Lena gulps down air. "I...I appreciate it, Your Majesty. But I...I am a cleric. I have sworn never to marry. My partners are the gods."

"Lena!" her father bursts out. "What on earth - " Michalis holds up a hand, and he falls instantly silent.

"Such a vow is not customary among clerics of Macedon," says Michalis, raising one brow. Lena wonders, faintly, how he knows such a thing. "I have never heard of one before."

"No," Lena agrees. "But it is a vow that I, personally, have chosen to make."

Minerva is staring at her, brow creased. Lena wonders if her own chest is about to be split in two by Hauteclere. At least it would be quick - the Red Dragoon is nothing if not efficient.

"I see," says Michalis at last. He closes the ring box. "Well, I will not force you. Still, the proposal remains yours, should you choose to accept."

He leaves the box sitting on the table in front of him, all through the proceedings, and Lena cannot tear her eyes away. It is a promise, and a threat, one worse even than the thunder in her father's eyes or the glares of the advisors around her.

\---

Lena would be a fool to think that this could end in any way but one: that ring on her finger, and a crown on her brow. Or, perhaps, there is another destiny for her - dead in the dungeons, a warning to whatever poor noble girl they find to take her place.

Fleeing is her only chance, so the moment the council meeting ends at last, Lena returns to her chambers, hastily casting her gown and jewels to the bed, tugging her old cleric's robes over her head, and gathering up what few possessions she can call her own, not her father's. She's panicked enough that her hands shake, clutching her mother's Mend staff like a lifeline as she hauls her things over her back.

She can't marry Michalis. She _won't_ marry Michalis. She needs to get away from here -

Lena darts out her bedroom door, heart pounding hard enough that she wonders if the whole castle can't hear it. She turns the corner, and nearly collides with a solid, red-armored wall.

Lena freezes, clutching her staff to her chest. "Princess - Red Dragoon."

Princess Minerva's eyes sweep over her, deep and appraising, taking in Lena's bag, her traveling cloak, her nervous expression. Lena knows there is no use in hiding anything from that crimson stare, and can only cringe, waiting for a gauntleted hand to close on her, to be dragged away, imprisoned or killed or worse -

"Taking a walk?"

"I - I beg your pardon?"

"Taking a walk, Lady Lena?" Minerva's tone is as solemn as ever. "I often find a stroll at night does good to clear my head."

Lena fumbles for her breath and finds it. "Y-yes. A walk."

Minerva nods slowly, her eyes drifting away from Lena. "I would stop by the east gardens, if I were you. It's lovely at this time of evening. And there's few guards to disturb the quiet."

Lena tries to read Minerva's stiff expression, and finds she can't. "That sounds...peaceful."

"It is." Minerva nods to her. "Well, I will keep you from your walk no longer. Take care, Lady Lena." She falls back into step, striding away down the hall. Lena watches her go, but she doesn't look back.

It could be a trap, Lena thinks. She could be walking right into Michalis's hands.

Then again, what choice does she have?

Lena gathers up her skirt in one hand and darts down the hall, her footsteps seeming cavernously loud. The east gardens are close to her room, by all mercies, and when she emerges into them, she is surprised that it is only her and the night stars - as Minerva said, not a guard in sight.

This garden is much smaller than the central courtyard, and it takes Lena minutes to cross it, the burbling of a fountain echoing and amplifying the stress in her mind. The garden is ringed by a high hedge, and Lena is only just tall enough to peer over the top when she stands on tiptoe. There are no guards at the perimeter - perhaps because there is nothing of note worth protecting in the castle's eastern wing, perhaps because the Dragoons are stretched so thin with the war. But the hedge has no gate, and there is nothing but the open land and the cliffs beyond. If she makes it over, she can slip down the mountain paths and towards the capital city.

Lena shoves her staff into her bag, digs a boot-clad foot into the hedge, and hauls herself up, her hands scratching on rough branches as she inches her way towards the top. She hasn't done something like this since her childhood, but desperation fuels her, and she pants as she hauls herself flat across the top and then, painstakingly, lowers her legs and drops to the ground outside.

The mountain air is cold enough to burn her lungs, the grass long enough to swallow her. Her first taste of true freedom in six months, and it intoxicates her.

The voice that rings in her head as she runs from the castle grounds is not her mother's, but her own.

_I am no one's save my own and the gods'._

_I am no one's save my own and the gods'._

\---

Once Lena is able to cross the river isolating the capital city (and it is a mercy the drawbridge is lowered - one Lena thanks the gods for as her boots pound across the wood) there is only one village where she can stop and rest. Dragonsbreath Hamlet is a bustling, lively town, as she recalls, a place where she and her father had stopped on the journey to the capital, and a region she and her mother had often called on during her childhood.

That is not the sight that greets Lena now - only a ghost town, where she can scarcely find an inn to rest for the night. Still, anything is better than the cold, empty void of the castle, and Michalis's eyes. She is free.

But Macedon is not.

What will she do now?

What she has always done. Whatever she can.

(Over the next months, Lena is arrested, chased, scolded, and she cheats, lies, and begs - but it is all that she can do, and so she does it proudly.)

\---

Walking into terrible mistakes has become something of a pattern.

That is Lena's only thought, as she is jostled in her wooden cage, bumping over every stone and pebble, and keeping her fists clenched in prayer through it all. The men jeer at her, but she keeps her eyes closed, blocks away the voices beneath her hood.

It isn't her first experience with danger. But there is no mysterious stranger in red or long-lost princess to come to Lena's rescue today. Not as she is carted away into the Teeth, to be gambled off to the highest bidder.

Lena always expected to be hauled away, one day - noble thief or not, she has sneaked into dreadful places, placed her life on the line, done extremely questionable things, all to feed those around her. She regretted none of it - but she thought it would be furious guards who imprisoned her one day, not enterprising bandits who had tried to drag away a child.

She doesn't regret intervening, though, or coming to this village. The people had needed her. And if the bandits have her, then they don't have one of the village girls, so it is a sacrifice worth making, is it not?

She must not give in, Lena thinks as they drag her into the tiny, dank stone cell. She is not theirs. She is not Michalis's, or her father's. She is hers, and the gods', and she belongs to none else.

That is what she tells herself, again and again, and stubborn will is enough to stay her tears.

\---

They throw her into a little chamber, no more than a hollow carved into rock with bars across the open side. The lock clicks, the keys jingle as they are tugged free, and Lena is alone, in a dank, gloomy hallway filled with nothing but other, empty cells. She can hear footsteps over and around her, bandits walking the tunnels of these mountains they made their home, and she sits quietly in prayer through it all.

It is on the second day of Lena's captivity that a voice pierces the gloom.

"I brought your food. You don't have to eat it. But, um...here it is."

Lena's eyes slide open, seemingly of their own will, and she glances up.

A young man crouches outside her cell, pushing a wooden bowl carefully through the bars. He is small, lean and wiry, wearing shabby clothes with his hair falling in his eyes. When he catches her looking at him, his eyes immediately dart to the ground. Lena's, almost unthinkingly, follow suit.

"It's not poison," he adds, standing up straight.

"Who are you?" Lena asks, her voice cracking from disuse.

"Just a thief," the man mumbles, and then he vanishes into the gloom before Lena can speak another word.

\---

When the meal comes the next day, it's brought by that same man - the thief. He looks at Lena almost nervously as he picks up her barely-touched bowl.

"More food," he mumbles, setting down another one. "It's not much, I know. Sorry."

"Wait," Lena says, before he can dart away.

He lowers his head, ducking it behind the curtain of his hair. As if afraid to meet her eyes.

"My name is Lena," Lena tells him. "I'm a traveling cleric."

He doesn't answer, eyes trained on the floor.

"I haven't spoken to anyone in days," Lena says quietly. "I just want to know who you are."

"Told you," he mumbles. "A thief. I'm part of the people holding you captive. You shouldn't talk to me."

"But you seem different."

The thief freezes, his hands shaking on the bowl.

"Aren't you?" Lena prods.

"Don't know why you'd say that," he mumbles at last. "I don't - I'm just a good-for-nothing."

"Everyone has the potential to be someone in the eyes of the gods."

"Don't worry about me." The thief gets to his feet and turns away. "Worry about yourself, Sister."

"Can I at least know your name?" Lena calls after him.

"Julian," the thief says, so softly Lena has to strain to hear. "It's Julian."

\---

Julian is the only one who speaks to Lena.

The other bandits pass by her cage, and leer, or squint through the bars, and Lena curls further into her hollow shadow of rock, tugging her hood low over that precious red hair and hoping it can block out their gaze. But only Julian ever brings food, or words.

"All I could spare," he says, slipping a bowl through the bars. "Sorry."

Those words are usually apologies, Lena notes.

"Thank you." Lena scoops the wooden bowl up in both hands. She can rarely bring herself to finish it, paltry though it is, but based on how Julian speaks of it, she suspects he is bringing her more than he was given permission to. "I appreciate it."

Julian's fingers flex and twitch as he pulls away from the bars. His eyes dart away from her, like he can't stand to look at her. He is always moving, often shaking.

"You shouldn't say stuff like that," he mumbles at last, fidgeting with the ragged scarf around his neck. "Not to me."

"Why?"

The look he gives her is almost exasperated. "You _know_ why."

"Will you stay for a bit today?" Lena asks him.

Julian glances over his shoulder, up and down the hall. "Er...maybe a few minutes. If it's okay."

Lena settles back against the cave wall, nestling her dinner in her lap. "I would like the company."

"Guess you can't get better than me, huh?" But Julian imitates her relaxed posture, leaning against the bars. Lena notes, though, that his torso is angled so that he can see back the way he came, and his eyes still aren't still, monitoring the hallway.

Lena searches for topics. "Are you the one who prepares the food?"

Julian shakes his head. "Nah. My job's to look after prisoners and open locked crates and doors and stuff. Sometimes I do repairs. Usually spend my time up in the Teeth."

"I see."

"If I was the one cookin', it wouldn't be slop like that." Julian scoffs. "It's not right, feedin' that to a cleric. At least us thieves deserve it."

"It tastes fine."

Julian glances over his shoulder. "You don't need to spare my feelings. I just told you I know it's awful."

Quiet falls in the hallway again.

"Your necklace is pretty," Julian says at last, voice soft.

"It was my mother's," Lena says quietly, curling her fingers around the small stone. "Thank you."

"Julian!" There's a banging noise from down the hall. "Where's that brat?"

Julian jumps to his feet at once, a spooked animal. "Comin'!" He sprints away, disappearing into the gloom, and Lena is alone once again.

\---

Time goes by - perhaps a few weeks. They continue to talk. Julian speaks more and more, voice rough and quiet but gentle. And Lena realizes she was right - he is not a bad man.

"I was born in Macedon," Lena tells him one day. "And I lived there for much of my life. Though I travel where I am needed." _And I am too wanted a woman to set foot there again._

"Sounds rough, a cleric travelin' all alone like that," says Julian. "Animals, and bandits - " He and Lena both wince, and he stops. "Sorry."

"Don't worry," Lena says quickly. "I - I do not intend to do this forever. I would like to settle down one day, and open a convent of my own. Perhaps one where I can care for those without families, and the less fortunate."

"Like...orphans?"

"Yes. Do you like children?"

"I used to look after the little ones, sometimes, when I was in gangs with 'em," says Julian quietly. "No kids here in the Teeth, though. Thank gods."

"Were you born here? In Aurelis?"

Julian shrugs. "Probably. Been here as long as I can remember, anyway."

"You don't know?"

"I grew up on the streets. No idea if I ever had parents."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Julian shrugs, tapping one finger against his thigh as he keeps a watch on the hallway. "It was fine. I learned to take care of myself. Ran with a bunch of different crowds back in the day. Thieving was the only way to eat. Not - not that I'm excusing - "

Lena thinks back to slipping through a castle window with Rickard, rummaging in engraved chests for handfuls of coins that could feed a village for weeks. "Everyone does what they must to live. I pray that, one day, there will be no need for such things."

A small smile crosses Julian's face - the first Lena has ever seen from him. "Maybe if you open that convent, you can help kids like that."

"I hope so," says Lena.

"Eventually I bit off more than I could chew." Julian fidgets with one of the shining tools in his belt. "Picked the wrong mark. Nearly died. Then the Soothsires found me."

"They saved you?"

"They thought I could be useful." Julian shrugs. "I'm better with locks then most of 'em. They don't have the patience. Of course, I can't fight worth anything, so I'm still not that much of a help. Either way, I owed 'em my life, so I stuck around. Been here for five years."

"Did you ever want anything else?" Lena asks carefully. "A life beyond banditry?"

Julian shrugs again. "Maybe. Once. You lose dreams on city streets. I've never done a worthwhile thing in my life."

"What if you could?" Lena asks him.

"Not everyone's as good as you, Sister Lena," Julian says quietly. "I don't have some kinda selfless, beautiful dream."

"Perhaps, if you only - "

Julian shakes his head. "Look at me. This is pathetic. You shouldn't be comforting someone like me. I'm holding you _captive_."

"Who is the real captive here?"

Julian stares at her. "Uh...you."

"That's not what I mean." Lena gets to her knees and scoots closer to him. "You don't want to be here, do you? Not at all."

Julian averts his eyes.

"Julian."

"Capturing a cleric was too much," Julian mumbles, running his fingers through his hair. "No, it's all been too much. They've been getting worse and worse, ever since the old boss died, capturing women and kids, and I've just been a coward, letting them - "

"Julian…"

"I'm an idiot," Julian mumbles. His fists are knotted in his hair now as he stares at the ground. "How many people have I let them kill? Just because they fed me? Because I was scared of what they'd do to me?"

"You can change this now," Lena whispers. "I know you can. I know you're not a bad person, Julian."

"But I let them - " Julian cuts himself off, shaking his head. "I'm an idiot."

Lena reaches a hesitant hand through the bars, resting it on his shoulder. He starts, but doesn't pull away. "You aren't. You have a good soul."

"You wouldn't be saying that if you knew, Sister," Julian tells her. "Knew how many people have been dragged into these cells, and I brought them food and water and looked after 'em but - but that didn't help. They all got sold, eventually."

They sit in silence for several moments.

"You can call me Lena, you know," Lena says. "Not 'Sister.' Because we're friends."

"You've got a funny definition of friend," Julian mumbles.

"Have I?"

"...I'll be back, Lena." Julian gets to his feet, tugging free of her hand, and disappears between the dark cells.

\---

"Lena. Lena!"

"Julian?" Lena scrambles to her feet. "What's going on?"

"Quiet," Julian hisses, lowering his head close to the bars. "Come close. I'm getting you out of here."

"How?" Lena steps obligingly closer, curling her fingers around the bars, tilting her head to hear him better. "I thought - "

"I'll pick the lock." Julian smirks as he rests his hands below hers. "I've been looking after these caves a long time. It won't even be hard."

"That's not what I mean! I mean - what about you?"

"I'll go with you. I'm no Soothsire. Not anymore. We'll both make it out of here."

One of the bandits shouts something. They both press closer to each other, flinching. Through the bars, their foreheads touch.

"It's chaos up there," Julian adds. "Apparently, there's an army coming to fight the Soothsires. Knights of Altea, or something. It's the perfect chance to slip away."

"If they catch us, you'll be killed," Lena says. "I cannot let you - "

"It's not about letting," Julian says. He's fiddling with the lock now, tools flashing silver as they dart between his fingers. "This is my choice. I'm making it one way or another. Besides, there's no more time. They've found bidders - they'll sell you tomorrow. We have to go _now."_

"But, Julian - " The lock gives a soft click, and the barred door creaks open.

"Come on." Julian tugs the door open the rest of the way, and holds out his hand. "I know these mountains. If we're quick and careful, there's nothing to worry about."

Lena stares at his open hand.

"Please, Lena," Julian says, and his voice is soft, wavering, half-begging. When Lena looks up at his face, he seems almost close to tears. "Don't you want to live?"

"I do," Lena whispers, and takes his hand.

"I didn't expect this," Julian adds as he leads her from the cell. "I thought all this time, you were trying to talk me into freeing you."

"No," Lena says, honestly. "I spoke to you because I was lonely, and then because I thought I could help you escape."

"Me?" Julian snorts. They hurry down the dungeon hall. "You were the one in a cell!"

"You were in one too. Of your own making."

Julian checks around a corner before beckoning, and they slip down another dark tunnel. "Profound."

They run in silence for another minute. Lean can hear shouting, crashes, from all around them, and prays Julian is right about the compound being deserted.

"But why?" Lena manages at last. "Why do this for me?"

"You're worth saving," Julian grunts as he elbows open another door. "And it's about damn time I did the right thing. Took me too long."

"Julian - "

"This way. And quiet, got it? If they catch us, we're dead."

Lena nods, tightening her grasp on his fingers, and they slip out into the sharp, cold mountain air of the Teeth.

\---

"How much longer can you run?" Julian pants as they dash down the cliffs. Lena nearly trips over pebbles, and his grip on her hand tightens, steadying her.

"I don't know," Lena pants - she's spent years walking everywhere she goes, but she spent a good few weeks in that cave, eating little and moving not at all. "I suppose we'll find out."

Julian huffs out a broken laugh. "Guess we will. I'll carry you if I have to."

Lena knows he can't, but doesn't say so. He knows it just as well. Sweat curls down her forehead.

 _"There's_ our little rat problem."

"No," Lena gasps out, knowing before she turns that it's bandits, not knights, that are pushing through the trees towards them.

"I thought we could just sneak on by," Julian hisses. "I don't know if they found us out, or if it's those people they're fighting, but - "

Lena and Julian back closer to the cliffs. The bandits press closer, axes glinting. Lena reaches for the staff at her belt.

"I can take 'em," Julian mumbles, but his hand is shaking on his sword. "It'll be fine, just stick close…"

He can't, Lena knows. Even an accomplished swordsman would struggle with this many alone, and Julian is no warrior.

"It'll be all right." Their backs are against the cliff wall now, Julian's arm in front of Lena, shielding her ineffectively from the oncoming horde. "I'll figure something out. I'll protect you."

"No," Lena says gently, resting her forehead against the gem of her warp staff. "No, you've protected me long enough."

"Lena?"

"I'm sorry," Lena whispers. "And thank you, Julian."

Julian whirls around. "Wait! Stop - "

The Warp staff glows -

\- and an angel appears.

The wings appear from nowhere, and Lena abandons the spell at once when she sees them, instead grabbing Julian around the waist and shoving him to the ground. The pegasus swoops down, one figure leaping from its back and another remaining mounted, their weapons flashing, shouts and screams piercing the air -

Lena can only cling to Julian, lying in the dirt, and hope that if the gods sent an angel, then they are also merciful enough to let their flock survive.

"Excuse me?" Lena lifts her head to see the pegasus has come to a stop in front of them. The woman perched on its back leans forward over its neck. "Are you all right?"

"I…" Lena coughs. "I think so. Julian?"

"More or less?" Julian mumbles from beneath her. "Scared me, though."

"Sorry." Lena clambers off him and staggers to her feet, tugging him up along with her. "I was afraid we'd be crushed - "

"It's good to see you're safe," says the woman. "Ogma, go after the stragglers. I'll look after these two." The other soldier salutes her and then hurries off along the cliffs.

"Thank you for coming to our aid." Lena releases Julian's arm and curtsies. "We are in your debt."

"It was no trouble." The pegasus knight has long, straight blue hair and red armor. She looks quite young. "Are you Sister Lena? The villagers told us the bandits were holding a captive…"

"Yes," says Lena, dusting off her robes. "Are you with the Altean knights?"

The knight nods. "Prince Marth and most of the men are further down the cliffs." She points with her spear. "We've cleared out the bandits, so if you head that way, you should be able to get to safety. Marth will look after you."

"Thank you very much."

"I'll be going, but take care!" The knight salutes and flies back up the cliffs.

"We should go, then, Julian…" Lena turns. "Julian?"

He's standing stiller than she's ever seen him, arms folded.

"You weren't hurt, were you?" Lena leans closer to him. "Hold still - "

"You were going to warp me," Julian says quietly.

"Yes." Lena's hands clench together. "I know you said not to, but - I wanted to protect you."

Julian sighs, running a hand through his hair. "I can't be mad at you for tryin' to protect me, but...you know there wouldn't have been any point to me escaping if you'd been left behind, right?"

"Julian?"

"Never mind." Julian shakes his head and holds out a hand. "C'mon. We should go find that Prince Marth."

Lena takes his hand, and they hurry down the slopes.

\---

For a time, Lena is the only Macedonian in the Altean army. It is not as if anyone ever asks after her heritage - still, it is not a truth she desires to volunteer, much less the whole of it. The army accepts her and Julian happily regardless, although the latter still seems to expect to be thrown out on his ear at any moment, stammering with fear whenever Prince Marth, Princess Caeda, or any other particularly esteemed knight comes near.

There are some familiar faces before long, however.

"I still cannot believe you would fight for Michalis," Lena tells Matthis stiffly as she bandages his wounds. "This from one who maintained he would never be a soldier."

"You can't just say _no_ to King Michalis, Lena," her brother moans. "What choice did I have? After you left, it was join the army or roll over and die! Those - those were literally my choices. Father was sent to the front lines too, you know. He's - he's gone. I got the letter months ago."

Lena can't feel any sense of loss over that. "So this is _my_ fault, then?"

"I didn't mean…" Matthis averts his eyes. "Look, I don't know why you left, or what even happened. I know Father was furious, and then the king got rid of him, and me too. We were useless to him."

"I am sorry you faced the brunt of my choices," says Lena, tightening the bandage. "But joining with Dolhr is an unforgivable act."

Matthis yelps. "Ow, Lena! Look, I said I was sorry..."

"The important thing is that you are now able to atone for your actions," Lena tells him. "Right?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Matthis sighs. "I guess I'm in this 'til the end, huh?"

"I should hope so," says Lena. "It's time you were an honorable knight."

"Don't worry." Matthis seems confident again, pounding a fist against his chest. "I'll be there to protect you, Lena, just you wait. And I'll ward off all the boys, too."

"...Certainly," Lena says carefully. "I appreciate the, er, enthusiasm."

\---

"Lena!" A young boy with bright blue hair comes bursting into the healing tent and grabs her by the hand. "I never expected to see you in an army!"

"Rickard?" Lena blinks. "What on earth brought you here?"

"The chief!" Rickard points over his shoulder, where a bedraggled-looking Julian is dragging himself into the tent. "He told me about your noble cause, and I figured, bein' a noble thief and all, I oughta join up! I didn't know you were here, though. Still stealin' stuff for the good of the people?"

"You two know each other?" Julian folds his arms. "Don't tell me you robbed her."

"Nah, we did a heist together once!" Rickard says cheerfully, folding his arms behind his head. "She and her staff were real useful, I can tell ya that. Whatcha been up to, Lena?"

"She's a cleric, you nitwit," Julian snaps, clamping a hand on his shoulder. "Show some respect."

"Oh, right." Rickard shrugs. " _Sister_ Lena. Oh, wait...hey, guess I was right! You _did_ meet someone, Chief! And it's _her!"_ A grin spreads across his face. "Wow, small world, isn't it? So are the two of you - "

"I think Prince Marth was tallying up the loot back there," Julian says loudly.

"Oh, geez! Gotta make sure I get my share!" Rickard tears out of the tent, letting the flap fall shut behind him.

"That kid hasn't changed." Julian runs a hand through his hair. "Mile a minute, and never feels bad about a thing, either."

"He's a sweet enough boy, but he doesn't think through his actions," says Lena diplomatically. "But he's still young. Perhaps he'll mature with time."

"Speaking of...you were in a heist with him?" Julian asks her, lowering his voice. "Not that I'm one to talk, but…"

"Yes." Lena feels her face heat. "Rickard talked me into it. We took money from the Millennium Palace treasure chambers, and I used my portion to purchase food for the village I was staying in. I had...mixed feelings about the whole affair, but…"

Julian laughs. "Should've figured it was something like that. That's so much like you."

Lena folds her arms. "What do you mean?"

"You know. Selfless and noble." Julian shrugs. "It's a compliment. You're a good person. Maybe too good. Hard to believe at times."

"I'm hardly noble," Lena mumbles, thinking of the Hammerne staff back in Grust.

"I don't mean all the posh stuff." Julian waves a hand. "I mean, being all righteous and honorable. In that way, I think you're more noble than even Prince Marth."

Lena tugs her hood up in an effort to hide her blush.

\---

When more Macedonians join, however, they are two of the last people Lena ever expected to fight alongside.

Princess Minerva is just as tall and solemn as she seemed back in the castle, but her eyes soften when she looks at her sister, the long-lost cleric-in-training Princess Maria, and she follows Marth's orders as dutifully as she once followed Michalis's - even if the bulk of the army gives her and her wyvern mount a wide berth.

The younger Princess Maria is a sweet girl, small even for her age - a surprise, considering the height of her siblings, and Lena wonders if perhaps her growth was stunted by years indoors - and as stubborn as her sister, but far gentler. As an aspiring healer, she is placed in Lena's care. And, if Lena is truthful, Maria is a much more dutiful student than Marisha was - not that it is fair to compare them, Lena chides herself, and Marisha was much younger, after all.

"You did well today," Lena tells Maria as they tidy away the last of the supplies. Night has fallen outside the healing tent. "You're nearly ready to work unsupervised."

"I'm pulling my weight, right?" Maria asks, almost under her breath, as she tucks her staff into her belt.

Lena only lets herself smile. "Of course."

Maria nods to her, curtsies, and scampers from the tent. Lena shoves the last box of herbs onto its shelf and gets to her feet.

There's a rustle as the tent flap opens again. "Maria? ...Ah."

Lena turns, and just barely manages to stop herself from recoiling in shock at the sight of crimson armor. "Princess Minerva?"

"I merely…" Minerva looks shifts from foot to foot, glancing briefly over her shoulder as if considering turning back. "Is Maria here?"

"I'm afraid you just missed her," says Lena, folding her hands.

"Well then." Minerva quickly averts her eyes from Lena's. "I apologize for taking up your time, Sister Lena. I will…"

"Wait," Lena says, before Minerva can flee. "You remember me, don't you?"

Minerva's shoulders stiffen, her jaw tightens. "...Yes. I did not know if your comrades knew of your...past, so I held my tongue."

"They do not," Lena says. "I appreciate your discretion. But regardless of that, I...Princess Minerva, I wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"For your actions the night I left Macedon." Lena pauses, carefully choosing her words. "I recall your...advice. Without it, I doubt I would have been able to leave the palace. For that, I humbly thank you."

"I do not recall aiding any kind of escape," says Minerva. "Only providing some guidance on peaceful locations for time alone. I had no way of knowing what you would do with that information."

"With all due respect, we both know that isn't the truth, Princess Minerva. Even though I walked overnight, I find it hard to believe that no dracoknight patrol located me in the next few days."

Minerva shrugs massive shoulders. "The palace guard was stretched thin. It is true that I chose to place priority on guarding the homeland over attempting to capture a political runaway."

"Your intentions do not change the result."

"Mere coincidence."

"Hardly. Regardless, I owe you my freedom." Lena bows her head low. "You have my humble gratitude."

"You have mine as well, for looking after Maria," says Minerva. "Is that all?"

"Yes." Lena straightens. "I hope we can get along as comrades, Your Highness."

Minerva nods curtly, and then leaves the tent as though a fire has been lit at her heels. Still, she is not quite quick enough to hide the fact that her face is as red as her hair.

Lena cannot say she still fears the Red Dragoon.

\---

The war rages on. Grust falls, not easily, but it does nonetheless, the Sable General himself on the end of Marth's blade, and while Lena feels relief, she knows what must be next.

After Grust comes Macedon.

"It is a shame," Lena says quietly, as she treats the injured, as Julian darts between the beds with his arms full of supplies. "I always heard that General Camus was a just and noble man. Loyal to a fault."

It is a testament to Julian's will that he doesn't pull a face, but Lena sees a muscle twitch in his jaw as he resists the urge. "No point in loyalty if it's to the wrong people."

"I agree." Lena holds her staff steady, brow tight as she attempts to knit the limbs Gradivus shattered back together (and while she can halt the worst of the pain, she already knows this soldier will never walk again.) "That was the impression I received of him, as well. But it is a shame, regardless. In service to the right cause, he could have done great things. He was not as brave as you, I suppose."

Julian nearly drops the box he's carrying. "As - as me?"

"Not everyone has the courage to turn their backs on what they know." Lena steps back from the unconscious patient and moves to the next bed. "To break their own fetters. But you did."

"I don't call that bravery," Julian mumbles. "Just doing what was right."

"What is the difference?"

Julian shrugs as he passes her a vulnerary. "Would've been braver if I'd done it sooner. Besides, comparing me to someone like that - doesn't seem fair."

"Why not? You did what was right, and Camus did not."

"Did you know Camus, Lena?"

Lena freezes.

"Because...it kind of sounds like you did." Julian coughs. "I mean, maybe it's silly, but - "

"We only met once," says Lena quietly. "Let us say he was not the hero I had expected him to be. A mere coward. It was only due to the interference of Princess Nyna that I was able to escape with my life."

"I see."

"In the end, I suppose it doesn't matter." Lena turns to check on a sleeping figure. "He is dead. And…"

"Next is Macedon."

"Right," Lena says quietly. "Macedon."

\---

When the palace of Macedon begins to loom out of the mountains, every step closer feels like a noose tightening around Lena's neck. Maria is quiet and withdrawn, Minerva more closed-off than ever, Matthis trembles, and Lena can almost feel their fear and dread as keenly as her own.

Hammerne is tucked away in Lena's bag, retrieved from her grandfather's village in Grust. If Marth's blade breaks in battle, it may be her only recourse to use it. Lena never expected to be a battlefield cleric.

That physical reminder of her bloodline only adds to the weight tightening in her chest.

"You've seemed withdrawn since we crossed the border," Julian says quietly, tying up a bundle of medical supplies.

Lena starts, realizing she's spent a good few minutes staring blankly into space with her staff across her lap, fingers curled around her mother's necklace. "I...I am fine."

"I know you're not." Julian crouches down in front of her stool, putting their eyes on the same level. "Is it being in Macedon?"

Lena can't bring herself to meet his eyes.

"Lena, if you're scared, you can tell me." Julian starts to speak again, then hesitates, and stops. "That's all."

The words tumble from Lena's mouth before she can stop them. "King Michalis once asked me to marry him."

Julian freezes. "What?"

"That's why," Lena mumbles. "That's why I left Macedon. It was marry him, or - or it wouldn't have - they would not have allowed me to do otherwise. And I swore - I swore I would never - would never - "

"Hey, Lena, it's okay." Julian leans a little closer to her. "He's not here. We're safe. It's okay - "

"I feel foolish," Lena mumbles. "The entire affair felt so - so shameful. I hid it from everyone, even from you…"

"You didn't need to tell me."

"I know, I just…" Lena curls her hands in the hem of her robe, trying to tug it over her entire form, to hide herself away. "I…"

"Lena, it's okay."

"I am not merely a sister," Lena tells him. "I was - _am_ \- a noblewoman. My mother was a descendant of Iote's own line, and my father was a member of Michalis's royal court. For that bloodline, I was to be married off. But the atrocities - the things Michalis did - I could not be his. I refused to be his. So I fled, and…"

"Then we're the same, huh?"

"What?"

Julian smiles sheepishly. "We both ran. Both left behind the only homes we had, because they weren't much of one."

"Perhaps."

"You're the one who said I had the strength to break my fetters," says Julian. "Can't you admit you had that same strength?"

Lena lowers her eyes, her face heating. "I had never thought of it as strength. Stubbornness, perhaps."

"What's the difference? If you think I'm brave, then you are, too. I didn't do anything more than you."

Lena looks away from him, out at the hills. The cliffs looming in the distance make her heart crawl into her throat.

"Stay with me," Lena says at last, startled by how small her own voice sounds. "As long as we're in Macedon. Please. If you're there, then I feel - I can bear it."

"Of course, Lena. I'll be wherever you need me."

Lena looks back, and his eyes are warmer than any sun.

\---

Michalis is defeated at his sister's hands - brutally, people whisper, it was as if two monsters ripped each other apart, and only one remained in the air by the battle's end. But he is gone, his sisters having taken his body to bury in the Macedon fashion, and Lena feels ashamed for how much easier she breathes, knowing what his death will mean for the already-dying kingdom. After all, tyrant or no, he was all that held Macedon together. For all that she is, Minerva is hardly trained to be queen.

But, Lena thinks, watching the sisters carry their brother away, the Whitewings trailing in their footsteps, perhaps it is for that reason she is the best choice.

\---

"This was Princess Nyna's plan," says Marth - and Lena's heard him say all of this before, but she nods along as if she's never heard it before. "Only Starlight can harm Gharnef, and that's Linde's role. But we need someone with powerful innate magic resistance to protect and heal her, and that's your duty, Sister Lena. The rest of us will keep his minions off your backs. You understand, don't you?"

"We do," says Linde. She's pale enough to glow in the darkness, her revenge just in front of her. "On your word."

Marth nods, resting a hand on the hilt of his swords. "Then the army will move. Princess Maria, you're with me. Lena, Linde, stick to the shadows."

"Good luck," Maria whispers, squeezing Lena's hand, and then they part.

"We can do this," Linde mutters, sounding as if she's trying to reassure herself moreso than Lena. "I'm relying on you, Sister."

"And I on you." Lena follows her into the dark, twisted halls of Gharnef's lair. For a time, the only sounds are their footsteps over stone, and the sound of the army battling deeper within.

"There's one." Linde's nails are digging crescents into Starlight's leather cover. "Be on your guard."

Lena tightens one hand on her staff. "I am with you."

Starlight bursts vivid-white in the dark hallway, and Gharnef gives a scream of pain, but he is still standing once it fades, and dark magic flies from his twisted hands in a counter. Linde steps back, breath hissing through her teeth, and Lena darts into the space between the two sages, flinging her arms wide. Imhullu stings, darkness clawing at her flesh, and Lena grits her teeth, but when the dark spell recedes, there is little harm done to her.

"Thanks," Linde mumbles shakily, and then she fires again over Lena's shoulder. Gharnef shrieks, crumbles -

"A fake," says Linde dully. "On to the next."

It takes countless hours, and Lena is nearly numb to the sensation of Imhullu by their end, but in time the true Gharnef falls, leaving only a shining blade behind, and Linde clutches it to her chest like a lifeline as they flee the shadowy temple, emerging at last into the light, where the army reconvenes. Linde staggers off towards Marth with the Falchion in hand, leaving Lena squinting in the sun, trying to find her bearings.

She catches sight of Julian pushing through the crowd, and relief fills her, unexpectedly - why? He was not part of the vanguard, and in no danger, and yet she felt inexplicably frightened for him -

"Lena!" Julian's eyes widen in terror, and he runs towards her. "Oh, gods!"

"What?" Lena blinks, and then looks down at herself, and recoils. Dark magic has left curled black tendrils all over her body, thick in her clothing and hair, spiraling down her arms and legs, the hem of her robe tattered by its poison.

Julian reaches out to touch her hand, and then hisses through his teeth, yanking his hand back. "Gods, what _is_ that?"

"Don't touch it!" Lena says quickly. "It's Gharnef's magic - It isn't hurting me - I'm sure Maria and I can remove the remains safely, but you shouldn't…"

"But, Lena, you're - "

"I'm all right," Lena reassures him one last time, and then collapses.

\---

When Lena wakes up again, she's in shade instead of sun, and very tired.

"There you are." A golden circlet and red hair appear in the edge of Lena's vision. "You overreached yourself, didn't you?"

Lena tries to answer, but can only manage a moan.

Maria tips a waterskin at Lena's lips, brow knitted. "Honestly. Gharnef just sucked out practically _all_ your energy. You probably won't be able to walk for awhile."

Lena swallows the water, and coughs.

"That much dark magic can take a toll even on the strongest cleric." Maria plants her hands on her hips. "You must know that, right? Why didn't you ask Linde to heal you, or take a vulnerary?"

"I do…" Lena sighs. "I suppose I just wasn't thinking of myself."

"I figured." Maria shakes her head. "Well, Father Wrys and I got it all off you. You should be fine in a few days. Really, though, Lena. You need to be more careful. You could've been stuck sleeping for _weeks_ if we weren't there."

"I'll be fine," Lena reassures her. "I'm awake now, aren't I?'

"Yeah, I should go tell Julian that." Maria hops to her feet. "He's...pretty upset."

"I suppose he is…" Lena closes her eyes. "I feel foolish for causing so much worry."

Maria pats her hand. "It's all okay. Everyone made it out, thanks to you protecting Linde. But you've gotta take better care of yourself." She darts from the tent, staff jingling in her belt. Lena barely has a moment to take in her surroundings before the flap opens again, and Julian is rushing to her side.

"I'm all right," Lena tells him, before he can say anything. "Just tired."

"You told me you were _all right_ before, and now you're like this!" Julian has dark shadows under his eyes. "You scared the hell out of me."

"I'm sorry," Lena says. "I was just trying to protect Linde."

"You always do this!" Julian's voice shakes as he pushes his bangs up off his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Thinkin' of everyone except yourself. Back in the Teeth, and here too - when will you learn to value your own life? Matthis was scared, and Maria, and me - "

"I forget," Lena murmurs.

"Forget?"

"That people care."

"People caring about you isn't what makes you important, y'know," Julian huffs as he sits down on Maria's vacated stool. "That's what you would say, isn't it?"

"I…" Lena closes her eyes. "I'm sorry, Julian."

"You don't have to apologize." Lena opens her eyes to see Julian's expression has softened. "Just...please, stop doing this. Stop throwing your life away. It's worth more than that."

Lena's eyes sting, unexpectedly, and she blinks hard. "I...I didn't want to die. I just wanted...to do what was right. To help."

"And you did," Julian says. "But you're more important than anything you do. It's okay. Just get some rest."

"Will you stay with me?"

"As long as you need. I promised, didn't I?"

The warmth that fills Lena's chest at his words terrifies her in a way she cannot quite define.

\---

The War of Shadows ends - and Lena was far from the front lines, but she can still feel the aftershocks when the dragon king is destroyed. The hours and days of the aftermath are nothing but burns and potions and healing magic, and Lena barely sleeps until she can finally declare that her patients are either stabilized or beyond a place she can reach.

Still, eventually, it is truly over, and former soldiers begin their plans to return home.

"Where will you go?" Julian asks her, as they watch the army loading away remaining supplies, both in smaller numbers than before they reached Dolhr. "Back to Aurelis?"

"I was thinking to Macedon," says Lena. "I'm ready to go home, I think. To help the land heal. There are many places that will be in need of a healer, and I'm certain I can find a suitable area to begin to set down my own roots."

"No more wandering, huh?"

"I always wanted a home," says Lena quietly. "But I never did find one. Perhaps it's time I built my own."

"Then I'll head there too," says Julian.

"You'll stay with me?" Lena asks, embarrassed by the tremble in her voice. "Truly?"

"Do you not want me to?" Julian's cheeks flush. "I mean, if you don't, that's fine, I just - "

"No," Lena says quickly. "No, I'd...I'd love to have you. But it won't be easy."

"Never stopped me before."

Lena takes his hand, and they look up at the half-crumbled form of Medeus's castle, where lives were lost, where others were forced to pick up the pieces.

"I want to build a place where nobody will ever be alone," Lena says, quietly enough that she's surely only he can hear it.

"I'll help you every step," Julian answers her.

The sun beams down on them both.

\---

"It's been some time," Colin greets her at the door. "You came to return Hammerne?"

"Yes." Lena bows as she passes the wrapped staff to him. "Thank you for entrusting it to me."

"It's yours, you know. I never had the skill to wield it, myself." Her grandfather moves away from the doorway. "But you're welcome to visit, either way."

"Thank you." Lena beckons to Julian and Matthis, who follow her bashfully into the small cottage. "I brought others along."

Colin squints, and then blinks. "That can't be...your brother, can it?"

"Er." Matthis worries the hem of his shirt between his hands. "Nice...to meet you?"

"I haven't seen you since Lena was born." Colin nods to him. "You're doing well, then? A soldier, hmm?"

Matthis looks sheepish. "Uh. Yeah. Sure."

"And this other one?"

"A friend of mine from the army," says Lena. "His name is Julian. We're on our way back to Macedon, and I'm afraid we can't linger."

"Well, I'm happy to see you, if briefly. I know how busy duty keeps us both." Colin shoots Julian one careful look before taking Lena's hands in his own. "I'm glad you've found reliable allies."

"Thank you, Grandfather."

Matthis glances over his shoulder. "We really need to go - "

"I'm sorry," Lena tells her grandfather. "He's right, though. The army will move on without us - "

"I understand. Keep safe, children." Colin watches the men leave. "You're certain you're well, Lena?"

"Of course," says Lena. "After all, the war is over." She bows again, and turns towards the door. "Take care of yourself, Grandfather."

"Lena. Love isn't anything to fear, you know. If it's with the right person."

Lena only nods before leaving the cottage behind.

\---

Dragonsbreath Hamlet is the place where Lena took refuge after fleeing Michalis's proposal, where the residents turned their heads and asked no questions of a frightened, exhausted cleric. It is a small but populous village, set across the river from the capital castle. Its proximity to contested battlefields left it not entirely ransacked, but severely damaged by the war, with many of its youngest and strongest enlisted and lost to Michalis's forces.

What remains, however, is a hardy little hamlet, a cluster of businesses in a main cobblestone way, and then a scattering of far-flung houses in its surrounding hills. And in those hills, by the forest clustered along the edge of the village's framing walls, is what once was a convent. A central stone cathedral, a scattering of living quarters, a barn - all unoccupied for at least a hundred years, and quite the worse for wear.

When Lena and Julian step through the cathedral's front doors, sunlight drifts down between empty wooden boards, creating a dappled pattern over the dull, empty walls. It is filthy, crumbling, more a skeleton than a proper building. Lena's boots leave prints in the dust, scraping it across the floor.

It is beautiful, she thinks.

"It'll take awhile," Julian says. "We'll need to clean and strip it bare before we can start to properly build it up again. And then there's the other buildings, and we'll need to clean up the grounds for gardens…I used to do the repairs back in the Teeth, but this is bigger than anything I've ever done."

"Do you want to turn back?" Lena asks him.

"Heh. Hardly." Julian rests his hands on his hips. "Let's get to work."

\---

The next months pass in relative peace, as plans are drawn up and cleaning begun. It is a long journey to embark upon, but the village offers Lena the old land for free, and it is more than adequate for what she needs, so long as she can make it livable.

It's a constant project, one that demands all the time the two have. Lena spends what time she isn't at the convent out in the town, patching up minor injuries and illnesses in exchange for free room and board at the local inn. Julian negotiates an apprenticeship under the local carpenter, filling in the holes in his and Lena's knowledge. The rest of the time, they are always together, a partnership forming that Lena cannot picture her life without.

And they do not share a room, or touch in any way that close friends would not, or speak of what they both must know is growing between them, and the thought of breaking that careful boundary frightens Lena in a way she cannot express.

Lena knows Julian feels he doesn't deserve her, and cannot bring herself to tell him that it is not a matter of deserving that keeps her from his side.

She knows he cares for her. It is not that she fears rejection. Only what comes instead, and the image of her mother's empty eyes. She made a vow, after all, and it is that vow she clings to now. Even if, a quiet, traitorous voice whispers in her mind, she never once told Julian of said vow.

The people of Dragonsbreath Hamlet are eager to have a convent and healer in town, and therefore happy to assist - many days, a figure or two appears up the broken-stone walkway, with supplies or food in hand, lending whatever talents they possess. Today, it is the local greengrocer and her twins, hauling away the tattered old roof tiles to clear space for fresh rafters.

"I'll be in town today," Julian says, glancing up at the sun's position as they sort through a pile of donated building materials, laying aside the most usable bricks. "What're your plans?"

"I want to see about getting the new roof started," says Lena. "The sooner we're able to safely spend nights here, the better. I hate imposing on the town's hospitality. There's also the windows, though I suppose we can patch those before we're able to find glass."

"You'll work yourself to death," Julian mumbles, shaking his head.

"Only after you do," Lena retorts, patting his hand as he gets to his feet. "Take care in town."

Julian salutes. "Back in five hours."

He is gone for less than five minutes before the cathedral doors slam open, and Lena knows before she turns that it can't be Julian, who always enters every room like he knows he doesn't belong. Still, she's expecting a villager with an urgent message.

What she sees instead is a row of sorcerers wrapped in dark cloaks, and the aura coming from them is one she hasn't felt since the war, foul enough to steal the breath from her lungs.

One of the children whimpers.

"Lady Lena of Macedon," comes a voice from under the hood.

"I am she," Lena answers, trying to keep her voice from trembling. "Do you have need of me?"

"You will accompany us," the man - is it a man? It doesn't sound quite human - intones. "You serve a purpose…"

"A purpose?" It is only stubbornness that keeps Lena's body still, her hands folded.

"Come," the sorcerer hisses.

"Sister Lena?" The grocer has pushed her children behind her skirts. "What's happening? Who is that?"

"We will do what is necessary to obtain your cooperation," says one of the dark mages.

Lena could scream for help. Julian hasn't gone far, and he would be at her side in an instant.

But he is no match for these men, and he would die trying to save her, and Lena knows both truths deep in her heart.

Lena holds out her open palms. "I'll go with you. Please don't hurt anyone here."

The men grab hold of her arms, and the feeling of being imprisoned - again, _again_ \- is enough to let Lena's mask crack, the first tears well up in her eyes.

_At least Julian isn't here._

That is her last thought, and then their magic suffuses her, and she knows nothing at all.

\---

"Wait," Lena gasps out, days or months or years later, as she and three more priestesses are dragged to Gharnef's feet. "Wait - just - just let the others go, and I will do whatever you wish."

The specter of Gharnef doesn't visibly react, but Emperor Hardin's head swivels to face her. "Is that so?"

"Yes." Lena's palms are sweating as she curls her hands into fists. "Please - please let them go." _This is all I can do._ "If you do, then I will not resist. I will give myself willingly to you." _Julian, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry._

Hardin scoffs. "Simple girl. As if I would surrender my captives. The more of you we have, the more power our master will obtain."

"But - "

"Silence," Hardin snaps. "Obey your emperor."

Gharnef nods, gripping Maria's - sweet, strong, brave Maria's - chin as the girl struggles against him. "It is time."

Maria's screams will haunt Lena until her dying day.

"The other girl from Macedon, next," Gharnef hisses. "Her blood is weaker, and she will pose less resistance."

The soldiers holding Lena march forward at his words, her feet dragging uselessly against the floor. Gharnef grabs Lena roughly by the chin, and her skin crawls at the feel of him, slimy and rough at the same time, both there and not, real and not real - some sort of abomination, something that should be long dead.

"Sister Lena." Gharnef's tone is mocking. "You aided Miloah's brat in my...death, did you not? At last, now...you will suffer as I have suffered."

"You will burn," Lena gasps out. "Archanea felled you once, and they will do so again. You'll see - "

The spell hits her.

The pain is unlike anything she's ever felt before. It's not physical, but it still burns, turning her very mind into fire. Lena doesn't know if she cries out. She doesn't know anything at all. Darkness swallows her, spikes every inch of her, sucks her dry, and as she wrestles hopelessly it only clutches more tightly, and her last, desperate thought is a hope that Julian can find enough of her to mourn.

\---

_She falls through the darkness._

_She can't give up. She can't give up. She has to fight it, and she does, but the darkness never ends, and it claws at her and drags through her and she doesn't have a voice to scream with anymore but it hurts, and she cannot give up, she cannot sleep yet…_

_Why was she so afraid? Now it doesn't matter. She never told him, and she'll never see him again._

_She'll never see any of them again._

_She has only ever been a burden._

_Nobody can save her this time. No mother, no princess, no mercenary, no thief…_

_But Julian is coming, isn't he…?_

_Julian is coming, and they'll go back to Macedon together, and she has to fight, she has to..._

"...ena?"

_A voice echoes through the black, and she can't hear it, she's so tired…_

"Lena, snap out of it!"

_She knows this voice..._

"C'mon, it's me! Julian! What's wrong with you, Lena? Lena!"

_Why does he sound so..._

"I know I'm a good-for-nothing scoundrel, but for you, I'd do anything."

_Anything…?_

The voice is close to tears. "I don't want anything else - I just want to see your smile again."

_And as her heart swells, the darkness fades..._

"Hey, Lena...could you smile for me?" Julian's voice breaks in a sob. "Please…"

"Oh... Julian...?" Lena coughs. "You came."

Julian's head lifts from her shoulder. "L...Lena?"

"I knew you'd find me," Lena tells him, the world warm and fuzzy and soft around her, even as she blinks back tears. She doesn't know her surroundings, or anything that's happened, but she knows he's with her, and that is enough. "I knew it. That's why I could continue struggling in the darkness of my soul...Julian, I'm sorry. I've always been a bother to you."

Julian lifts a shaking hand to wipe her face. "Are you kidding me, Lena...? I'm just happy to hear your voice again."

Lena leans down and lets her face rest against his shoulder. His arms wrap around her, as if he's scared she'll break. "Julian, there's something I'd like very much. Will you listen?"

"Huh? Sure, Lena, hit me. So long as it's within my power…"

"Could you call me...something else? 'Honey'...or something like that…"

"Huh?"

"You're always 'Lena' this and 'Lena' that. You speak as though we're barely friends - and I don't like that feeling. That just won't do, especially not after we settle down together in Macedon."

Julian freezes against her. "...What're you talking about, Lena...?" He coughs. "Er...I mean...H-Honey...Don't tell me you're asking me to…"

"Uh-huh…" Lena curls her face into his neck. "I'm sure the gods will forgive me. After all, you...you mean the world to me."

The darkness is warm this time, in his arms.

\---

When Lena opens her eyes again, she can't stop the wave of panic, nearly enough to choke her, and she gasps beneath its weight.

"Lena?" A hand tightens on hers, and the fear recedes. "You awake?"

A face swims into view. "Julian?"

"Yeah."

"You're okay," Lena croaks.

Julian brushes her hair back from her forehead. "That's my line."

"Please, I - I want - " Lena swallows. "Hold me? Please?"

He lifts her carefully into his arms (and he never could lift her like that before - how much weight has she lost?) as if she is worth more than gold, lets her head fall against his shoulder as he cradles her in his lap. "How's this?"

"I can hear your heartbeat," Lena mumbles.

Julian's laugh is shaky. "Can you blame me?"

"Hmm…"

"I can't believe you're back," Julian whispers. His head is resting on hers, his forehead on her hair. "It's been so long…"

Fear grips Lena's chest. "How long?"

Julian's exhale is rough, shaking. "A year."

"An entire…"

"Yeah. Most of that without much of a lead. Didn't even know if you were still alive, but - " Julian cuts himself off. "I thought maybe it was my punishment. For everything. And then I cursed the gods, because - why would they punish you, and not me? You didn't deserve any of this."

Lena curls closer to him. "Neither did you. Thank you, Julian...it was only because you were there that I could..."

"Lena?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe this isn't the time, but...did you mean what you said back there, when you came back?" Julian swallows hard, his chest shifting beneath her. "I...I know you were pretty out of it, and - "

Full memory hits Lena in a wave, and she must stiffen, because Julian stammers. "I - you don't have to worry about it. I'll just forget it all, if you want me to - "

"No," Lena says softly. "No, don't forget it."

Julian catches his breath.

"I was afraid," Lena manages. She does not have the strength to lift her head, let alone leave his arms, but she wills her lips to move, at least, so she can finally speak the words chained to her heart. "For so long, since I met you, I was...terrified of how I felt about you. I hid from it. But after all I have endured, all the time we have been forced apart, I...I…" She swallows. "I do not regret what I told you."

"Lena…"

"I love you," Lena whispers into the curve of his neck. "I love you, and I meant every word of it. I should have told you sooner, but I - "

"You don't need to apologize," Julian says, before the words can leave her lips. "You never - you're always like this. Like you're some kind of burden, when you're anything but…" Lena manages to lift one hand, and he catches it in his own. "When I first saw you, I thought you were an angel."

"An…"

"Even in that cage, you glowed. You were more beautiful than anything I'd ever seen. Anyone I'd ever met. And no matter how much you suffered, you were always kind, always patient, even to an idiot like me, and - " Julian's voice cracks. "I just wanted you to be safe and happy. That's all I ever wanted. And now you're finally back, and…"

"Julian…"

"I'm rambling on, and you're exhausted." Julian gives a wet chuckle. "You don't have to worry. Just rest."

"Wait, first…" Lena manages, fighting through the clouds of sleep. "Do...do you…"

"Of course I love you, Lena," Julian says quietly. "I always have. Now get some sleep. And I'll be right here when you wake up. I'll...I'll always be right here."

\---

The next time Lena opens her eyes, she's in a smaller tent, and as she turns her head, she sees Julian lying on a bedroll beside her, his fingers curled with hers.

Lena catches her breath, but he is still asleep. He looks paler than she remembers him, perhaps even thinner than he was, and there are shadows beneath his eyes - and Lena tries not to think of what he endured the last year, but the fear still dogs at her heels. As she reaches out for him, brushing his bangs back from his face, his eyes open.

"I'm sorry," Lena says quickly. "I meant to let you sleep, but - "

"Nah, it's fine." Julian blinks, sitting up. "Need anything?"

Lena shakes her head, trying to prop her elbows beneath herself to sit up. Julian reaches down and helps her upright. "I'm all right. Where are we?"

"Dunno," says Julian, glancing around. "I mean, in my tent - but I dunno where we pitched it, exactly. We're somewhere outside the Dragon's Table, I guess."

"Dragon's Table?"

"Er…" Julian looks sheepish. "I didn't really keep track of everything, to be honest. There were dragons. It's been a long year."

"You went through so much for me," Lena says quietly, eyes falling to a scar on his forearm she's certain he didn't have before.

"And I'd do it again." Julian smiles weakly. "Don't feel bad, Lena. I wouldn't've done it if you didn't deserve it. Oh, and - " He leans away from her slightly, reaching for something she can't see. When he pulls his hand back, he has a familiar, slightly battered staff in hand. "Here. I picked it up, after - well, I got it back for you, and I kept it with me. Knew you'd want it back."

Lena reaches for her old Mend staff. "Thank you, Julian."

"Don't mention it. I know how important it is to you."

Lena lays the staff aside and leans her head against his shoulder. "Is everyone all right?"

"I think so. The priestesses are all safe, including you. And Marth defeated Medeus, again, so - it's all right, really. You can just rest now."

"I've rested enough."

Julian laughs softly. "Don't think so. You look like you're barely staying upright."

"I'm fine," Lena insists. "I've had enough sleeping. I - I haven't done much else the last year."

"Fair enough." Julian brushes back her hair. "I can go get you some food, or - "

"Julian." Lena rests her hand over his, and with great effort, turns to face him. "Can I kiss you?"

Julian freezes. "Um. Really? Now?"

"If you want me to. _I_ would like to." Lena's hand tightens on his. "Would you like me to?"

"Uh." Julian swallows. "Of - of course."

And she kisses him, soft and hesitant, but blooming like the morning sun in Macedon, and for the first time in years, it feels as though Lena is coming home.

\---

The dust has resettled over the convent at Dragonsbreath Hamlet, but it is otherwise unchanged as Lena and Julian approach, this time hand in hand from the start.

"Finally." Julian exhales. "I was worried we'd never see it again."

"Back to work, then." Lena squeezes his hand. "Ready?"

"After a year of running away from dragons, this seems like a cakewalk." Julian grins. "Let's sweep the old girl out, and then see about your roof, huh?"

"Let's build a home." Lena rests her head against his. "Together. For our family."

Julian coughs. "You can't just _say_ things like that."

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean." Julian grumbles. His face is red. "Don't tease."

Lena laughs. "I'm sorry. But I mean it. Anyone who needs a home...we'll offer it, together. That's what I've always wanted."

Julian's thumb runs over the back of her hand. "And I want it too. So let's get to work on it."

\---

"Chief! Man, how long has it been?"

"Like two months."

"Too long, I say! Man, I thought we'd never find - "

"Hush your chatter at once, Rickard, and allow me to speak! You, young man. I was told this is the residence of Sister Lena!"

"That it is."

"Then I demand to see her at once!"

"She'll be along shortly," says Julian wearily. "Oh look…"

"Julian?" Lena dusts off her skirt as she steps into the sun outside the cathedral. "Who is it?"

"Sister Lena!" A young, blue-haired girl immediately drops into a low curtsy. "At last, we've found you! It took so terribly long, I feared it was a task beyond even Marisha!"

"Marisha?" Lena blinks. "And Rickard? You two were traveling together?"

"Yes, well…" Marisha sniffs. "Rather like a suckling fish, he attached himself to me once he discovered I was searching for your whereabouts. He informed me that he was a genius at information-gathering, though in retrospect his talents were quite overplayed - "

"I reckoned, where Lena was, you'd be too, Chief!" Rickard beams. "That was a little bit of smart deduction on my part. I know, real impressive - "

"So what're you going to do now that you're here, genius?" Julian folds his arms and glares down at Rickard. "There's no rich to steal from 'round here, just the poor. And if you try and take from them, I'm not having any part of it."

"Really?" Rickard seems to deflate slightly. "Oh."

"What did you think we'd be doing here, Rickard?" Marisha rounds on him. "I for one intend to continue my studies under Sister Lena, and continue to improve my image as an elegant healer! I assumed you, too, wished to better your slovenly, churlish self! Was I wrong?"

"Er…" Rickard slinks away. "Lena, help me!"

"I won't allow you to steal from the villagers, Rickard," Lena tells him sternly. "But if you truly wish to change your ways, then you're welcome to stay. As are you, Marisha."

"Yes, of course!" Marisha clasps her hands together. "Please don't fret, Sister! I am hardly a silly, spoiled Marisha anymore - after months at war, I have picked up a wide variety of talents and desirable traits! With me around, this er... _charming_ building will be a shipshape orphanage in no time at all. All I ask in exchange is for your continued aid in my studies of the staff."

"Oh, yeah, what she said!" Rickard nods rapidly. "As a former, er, noble thief, I can climb into all sorts've places, and Chief's not as young as he used to be - "

_"Hey."_

"I'm just saying, someone your age shouldn't be up in rafters!" Rickard grabs Lena's hand, eyes huge and pleading. "Pretty please, Lena? I promise I'll be good!"

"No stealing," Lena reminds him.

"Of course, of course!" Rickard salutes. "Whatever ya say, Lena!"

"Then you may stay," Lena tells them both. "But this won't be an easy life."

"Marisha has never lived an easy life!" Marisha tosses her hair. "I say, bring it on! Such an experience can only embetter me, and therefore my prospects of marrying into money!"

"Hey, how is that any better than stealing?" Rickard scowls. "Sounds like a double standard - "

"If you two have time to bicker, you have time to help me build a vegetable garden," Julian cuts them off. "Come on around back."

"With _dirt?"_ Marisha pulls a face. "Oh, very well. I suppose, if it is to better myself…"

\---

The old chapel slowly begins to take the form of a livable building - though hardly safe for longterm occupancy. Lena, Julian, Marisha, and Rickard are able to move from the inn and pitch tents in the cleared grounds, resuming repairs early in the morning from late into the night. Villagers continue to assist, drifting in and out and volunteering skills as needed, and the walls are growing steady and solid, the patches of sun dotting the damaged floor growing smaller by the day.

"You have been hard at work, haven't you?"

Lena stops short at the sight of three cloaked figures on the cathedral doorstep. "May I help you?"

"It's us!" The smallest figure tugs down its hood, revealing a shock of scarlet hair, almost unfamiliar without its usual golden tiara. "We snuck out!"

"Not so much as that," says one of the others quickly. "We did inform a few people."

"I hate to be a bother, Sister Lena." Queen Minerva lowers her hood and bows low. "But Palla, Maria, and I...we ask to impose upon your hospitality for a brief while."

"It is an honor to host the queen and her family," says Lena. "But, er...to what do I owe the honor?"

"I could not think of elsewhere to go," Minerva says lowly. "And I needed...to leave that castle, if only for days."

"We'll be useful!" Maria adds quickly. "You're trying to build an orphanage, right? I can help clean and heal, and Palla's really good at sewing and building and everything like that."

"We could use extra hands," says Julian. "But, er...is it really right for a queen to be tiling roofs?"

"If I am honest, I know little of such things," Minerva says. "But...I am hardly lacking in brute strength, as it were. All I need is guidance."

"You and Julian will make a pair, then," says Lena brightly. "You're all welcome to stay as long as you need, and we'll keep things quiet."

"It will only be a brief while," says Palla, taking Minerva's arm. "We would hate to impose...and, well, we do have other duties, though I assure you they are left in good hands. Simply tell us where to go, and we'll work from there."

"Um." Julian rubs the back of his neck. "Well, I was working on the cathedral roof…"

"Minerva and I will be an excellent help, then," says Palla. "We brought our mounts along."

"And me?" Maria asks.

"Marisha and I were sowing the first seeds for the vegetable garden," says Lena. "It's along this way."

Maria nods, following after Lena. She keeps glancing over her shoulder.

"Are you all right?" Lena asks her gently, once she's certain they're too far for Minerva to hear.

Maria shrugs. "I...I don't know. It's hard, at the castle."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

Maria tugs at the hem of her sleeve. "I...get scared again. In small rooms, or when I'm alone. I thought I'd outgrown it, but...and Minerva feels so bad about it, I know. I try to hide it, but she always figures it out."

"She's your family. She worries about you."

"She still treats me like a little kid," Maria mumbles, plucking a leaf off the overgrown hedge and twirling it between two fingers. "I can't blame her, though. All I do is get captured and cause her trouble."

"I'm certain that isn't true."

"It is, though! You were there, both times." Maria crunches the leaf between two fingers. "I spent _years_ in that fortress, and Minerva did all kinds of horrible things because of it...and then I got captured again, and she had to fight again, all to save me..."

"You're worried about her."

"She's under so much stress...don't tell her I told you, but she _hates_ being queen. And she's already been overthrown once...she's scared that she's going to ruin Macedon."

"With the state Michalis left it in, she's hardly to blame."

Maria shakes her head. "She says that isn't true...it's hard for me to know, though. She hides the worst of it from me. Palla does, too. Because I'm _delicate_." She spits out the last word with uncharacteristic venom.

"It's only natural for them to want to protect you," says Lena. "It doesn't make you weak. And I can sympathize with your feelings. After all, I have spent quite a bit of time as a prisoner, myself. But being a victim of circumstance is hardly a crime, is it?"

"Mmm…" Maria drops her eyes. "I'm still ashamed, though. I still wish...I had done something differently."

"I do, too. But we're here now. And there is nothing we can do to change what has already happened. The important thing is that we're free now, and can live our lives as we wish."

"Don't tell Minerva, but...that castle feels like just as much of a prison as Castle Deil did, now." Maria huffs out a short breath. "Um, anyway...is that the vegetable garden?"

Lena stops. "Yes, it is. Marisha, this is Maria."

"Ah, we've met!" Marisha gets out to her feet and holds out a soil-encrusted hand. "I tended to you after that dreadful business with the Shadow Dragon! It is good to see you well, Your High - er, Maria."

Maria takes the dirty hand with no hesitation. "It's nice to see you again, Marisha. I hope I can help."

"Yes well," Marisha gestures to the piles of potato seeds, "as you can see, it is rather filthy business. But worthwhile, I suppose. Marisha is becoming so terribly embettered, she shall have suitors lining out the door!"

Maria giggles. "If you say so. Where do I start?"

Lena watches her carefully, but that somber expression doesn't return.

\---

The sun sets over the greatly-improved cathedral tower three days later, painting stripes of orange over the sloping lawn. Maria, Rickard, and Marisha are playing with Palla's pegasus, rolling in the grass as it chases them (and Lena knows when the glee wears off, the latter will be horrified by the state of her dress, but elects not to comment.) Palla and Julian are sanding the near-complete first pieces of furniture, spread on tarps by the entryway, and Minerva leans against the wall of the workshed, watching them all.

"Have you enjoyed your time here?" Lena asks her, coming to a stop at her side.

"I...did," Minerva says. "Though I fear we must depart tomorrow. I can make no more excuses to linger."

"You're welcome to visit whenever you like."

"I hate to be a burden."

"Hardly. Having a pegasus rider and wyvern knight made our concerns about not finishing the roof a thing of the past. And all three of you have been quite helpful. I would hire you, had you not other duties!"

Minerva lowers her head. "Heh. That is a thought, isn't it?"

"I don't mean to offend. I apologize."

"No, no. Merely...no, it is nothing." Minerva shakes her head. "I have not seen Maria smile so in...years, perhaps. Since before the second war."

"If I might be so bold...I have not seen you smile so before, either."

Quiet falls between them as they watch Rickard be tossed backwards over the pegasus's neck.

"There is...a peace, here," Minerva says at last. "One I cannot find within the walls of the castle."

"Perhaps there will be a time when that peace is always with you," Lena says softly.

"Yes…" Minerva ducks her head beneath her hood. "Perhaps...someday."

\---

The next visitor comes on horseback, tumbling gracelessly from the saddle to land on the lawn at Lena's feet.

"Matthis," Lena says tiredly. "You're not here for money, are you?"

"I'm shocked, little sister!" Matthis hops to his feet. "What would make you think such a thing?"

"Your history?" Julian suggests wryly.

"And Julian's here too!" Matthis tosses an arm around Julian's shoulders. "So you're the one who won her heart. Well, you're a good kid, and I'm happy for ya. Figured Kris would steal her away."

"Shut up," Julian grunts, shrugging off Matthis's arm. "Why are you here?"

"Well, the queen and General Catria might have had me honorably discharged," says Matthis, rubbing the back of his neck. "Because I might not have been showing up to drills and stuff. And I knew you were running this convent project, so I figured, maybe…"

"And what do you intend to do here?" Lena asks.

Matthis freezes. "Er…"

"If you can control your behavior, you're welcome to stay," says Lena. "I won't turn you out, nor will I force you to help. But I have no intention of allowing you to use me. You'll be expected to look after yourself. Is that fair?"

"Yes, of course!" Matthis bows. "You've grown a real backbone, Lena. I'm so proud…"

"There's a spare room in the living quarters to the right," Lena cuts him off. "It's the only empty one. You'll need to find your own furniture."

"Thanks, Lena!" Matthis beams. "You sure won't regret this!"

"I might," Lena sighs as he tears off across the lawn.

"Well, it's fair to give him a chance," says Julian. "Even Rickard's cleaned up his act, so maybe there's hope for him yet."

"Who is Kris?" Lena asks him.

"What?" Julian blinks. "Oh, yeah. Marth's bodyguard. Matthis's got this weird fixation on them - "

"Lena!" Marisha comes tearing out of the living quarters. "A decidedly strange man just asked me if I was your daughter! And he was _unwashed!"_

"I'll go handle that," Lena says quickly.

"Well, it's hardly quiet around here," Julian says, squeezing her hand.

"I don't think it ever will be again," says Lena. "Having regrets?"

"Never."

\---

"There's something I need to tell you, Lena," Maria says quietly, sitting on a stool in the kitchen. "Something I think you deserve to know."

Lena looks up. "What is it?"

"I lied to you about something," Maria mumbles. "Minerva did, too. Not just you. Everyone. Even King Marth."

Lena sets down her dishrag and sits down in front of her. "I'm listening."

"Michalis is alive."

Had Lena not sat, she would have fallen.

"I know it looked like Minerva killed him," Maria whispers. Tears are welling in her eyes. "She almost did. She was going to. But she didn't. She stopped, and I - I convinced her to - let me save him. He was barely alive, but I hid him, and I did all I could, everything you taught me, and he - he recovered. He was never at his full strength again, but he could fight."

Lena leans back on her stool.

"He was the one who saved Minerva from the uprising in Macedon," Maria continues. "I don't know if he really wanted to save her, or if he just didn't want Rucke and the others to take power - but he did. And I thought I saw him once...fighting Gharnef. For me. But that doesn't change what he did. And he could have just as easily tried to hurt people again. And that would have been because of me. I know that."

"Maria…"

"I couldn't let him die, though," Maria says. "I knew I should have, but I just couldn't. I couldn't let my sister kill my brother."

"What happened to him?" Lena asks. "Where is he?"

"I don't know," Maria whispers, wiping her eyes. "He left Archanea, or he died, I think. Minerva doesn't know, either. But he's gone, and he didn't even say goodbye, or thank us, or anything. And I guess - I guess that means - maybe he never really loved us at all."

"Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't. What matters is that you did. And it was kind of you to save him, either way."

"I guess it was stupid, but I hoped - I always hoped - that maybe, if he got better, we would be a family again. I think a part of Minerva wanted that too." Maria blinks hard. "But...I guess in the end...I was just being a child again. I always feel like a child. I look little, and I act young, because I was locked up for so long, and I didn't really get to grow up...and that was Michalis's fault, and I hate him for it, but I love him too, and…" She breaks off, covering her mouth with her hand.

Lena slips an arm around Maria's shoulders. "It's all right, Maria."

"Michalis hurt so many people," Maria whispers. "Like you. And you deserved to be safe from him, but..."

"I admit, I breathed easier when I thought him dead," says Lena. "But at the same time, I'm glad. I'm glad you didn't have to lose your brother."

"I did, though," says Maria. "Twice. And I don't think I've forgiven him, either. Even if he's...gone...I don't know if I can ever forgive him."

"You don't have to."

"But I...I still love him."

"I know. Love is an unreasonable thing. Sometimes we extend it to people who may not deserve it. But you are never wrong merely for loving someone." Lena squeezes her shoulders. "You can feel hurt, or sad, or angry. You can mourn the life you wanted to have with your brother and sister. But if you try to deny your feelings, to crush them...you will never be able to heal from them."

Maria sniffles, turning her face into Lena's shoulder.

"You can tell your sister these things, too," says Lena gently. "I know she will still love you. You don't have to fear rejection from her."

"I know," Maria whispers. "I get scared of burdening her."

"She wants to be burdened by you. I know it. She's your big sister. She'll carry anything you give her."

Maria laughs wetly. "Yeah, that sounds like Minerva."

"But you help her too, you know. Who else will look after her?"

"Palla will."

"Palla could never take your place."

Maria sniffles. "Yeah...you're right. Someone's got to keep her in line. Otherwise she goes off and gets herself hurt. She's so stubborn."

"I don't know where she gets that from. It certainly doesn't seem to run in the family."

Maria's laugh sounds real this time.

"What is it you want to do?" Lena asks her.

"I want to save people," says Maria, dragging her sleeve over her face. "People who need to be saved. For the rest of my life, that's what I'll do. I know I'll never see Michalis again, but...I can still be myself. And maybe I can find a home and a family somewhere...even if he isn't part of it."

"I'm certain you can," says Lena. "It's almost dinnertime. Will you go out and find where your sister flew off to, so we can all eat?"

Maria nods, getting to her feet. "Thanks, Lena."

"It's no trouble. I'm always here to listen."

Maria pauses in the doorway. "Lena?"

"Yes?"

"How did you learn all of this?"

"From my own journey," says Lena quietly. "You are not the only one who has felt burdensome."

"Guess not." Maria smiles weakly. "Guess we priestesses really were the same, huh?"

"In some ways."

"Lena, if we…" Maria pauses, then shakes her head. "No, not yet. Thanks. I'll see you later."

\---

The convent is bustling, now. The cathedral needs only windows to be deemed complete, and most of the side buildings are safe to live in. Lena has begun arrangements to take in a few stray children from the village, and sent out word to surrounding ones to send along more in need of homes.

The cloaked trio has visited several times over the last months, and Lena is hardly surprised to see the pegasus and wyvern touch down once again.

"Sister Lena," Palla greets her at once. "We must impose upon you once again."

"You've come to visit?" Lena asks. "You know we're always happy to have you."

"I suppose news has not reached this far quite yet," Minerva muses. "Then I shall tell you. Yesterday, Queen Minerva and Princess Maria renounced all claims to the throne of Macedon."

Lena catches her breath. "What?"

"We're not a queen and princess anymore," says Maria. "We decided...it was time to end the rule of Iote."

"It was my family that destroyed this land," says Minerva. "The way to set this right...was to end my family's claim to it. To bring a new rule. King Marth agreed to take Macedon in as part of Archanea, and the gods know he is more suited to the task of leadership than I."

"Then Macedon is Archanea now? Will the people truly approve?"

"Some won't," says Minerva. "But the transition will be gentle. Macedon will still be its own land, even if it is part of the Kingdom. I have already appointed a trusted governor to work alongside Marth in recreating our land."

"It feels so sudden."

Minerva shakes her head. "Truthfully, Lena, I made my choice long ago. I have accepted that I am not the proper leader for Macedon, and Maria does not intend to take the role, either. I apologize for not being truthful with you up until now, but I could not allow word of the transition to escape before it was time for the citizenry to know. All along, I had hoped to find a place...where Maria could live freely and safely. And I did. Yet, when the time came..."

"I wasn't going to go anywhere without you!" Maria huffs. "And you wanted to come live here too, Minerva. You said so!"

"And where you go, I do too," says Palla softly, twining her arm with Minerva's.

"And your sisters?" Lena asks her.

"Catria wishes to remain with the Macedonian army," says Palla. "But she says she'll visit when she can. And Est...she wants to walk her own path now. All I can do is stand back and be happy for her. So it is my own choice when I say I wish to be here."

"As you see, all three of us are in agreement," says Minerva. "So, I ask...that we be allowed to enter your employ. Quietly, of course, and not as our true selves...but as three travelers in need of a place to stay."

"I already know you're hard workers," says Lena.

"And we don't need much," says Palla. "Minerva and I share quarters."

"I can room with Marisha, too!" Maria adds. "We could build a bunk bed."

"There's enough space," Lena tells them. "And I'm happy to have you."

The tight look on Minerva's face softens. "I...truly?"

Lena nods. "This is a place of healing, and light. All who need it are welcome."

"Welcome home, then," Maria murmurs, taking Minerva's hand and stepping over the threshold.

\---

The first group of children numbers ten. They come from a few villages scattered throughout Macedon, most orphaned by the first war and the accompanying famine. Some had been in the care of churches or relatives, others fending as best they could on their own, even on the streets.

Lena welcomes them, gives names to the ones that have none, and offers food and a roof and love, and hopes it will be enough. But she is hardly alone in that mission.

Palla is deft and gentle, stern but fair. Maria befriends even the shyest with bright chatter, and Marisha teaches etiquette classes that largely just involve giggling. Rickard delightedly teaches them to climb the cathedral rafters despite Palla's best efforts to intervene. Julian takes in the most ragged, scared, quick-to-run little boy, who is often found lurking at his heels. Minerva, a bit surprisingly, is quite popular with all, walking through the convent with three or four toddlers riding on her arms and shoulders. Matthis seems to be outwitted by the children more often then not, but despite his moaning, he doesn't really seem to mind being used as a human plaything.

It is not the staff Lena expected, but it is a competent one. And she wouldn't call herself the children's mother - but she would call them all hers, nonetheless.

There is no shortage of love, at least, and it is all around her.

\---

The cathedral is completed, polished, and stands tall and proud at the convent's center. Around it, the summer flowers are blooming, the walkways clear and neat, and the living quarters warm and snug in neat rows. While there is always more to be done, Lena can only call the first stage of her dream complete, and the Dragonsbreath Hamlet convent is officially open.

Before morning services begin, the first ceremony to be held there is a wedding.

Through the clear glass windows, the morning sun paints the overgrown lawn in streaks of light, dancing over the garlands and wreaths of flowers scattered over the columns and pews by the all the children's combined efforts. Palla helped embroider Lena's dress, and Maria wove wildflowers into her hair, and Julian crafted the rings under the town blacksmith's watchful eye. Minerva and Rickard built the altar out of sturdy branches, and Marisha adorned it with ribbons and ferns. The townsfolk contributed food, welcoming their newest members into the fold. Even Lena's grandfather arrives from Grust, despite the long journey.

There are more rows of guests than Lena would have ever dreamed of having three years ago.

The ceremony is held at noon, officiated by a beaming Maria. Lena thought, all her life, that she would be afraid in this moment, but she feels no fear. Only a perfect, warm, gentle happiness.

She is in the home she built, surrounded by love, and walks to a future filled with it. Not towards Julian, but at his side.

Nobody walks either of them down the aisle. They only have themselves to give.

The celebrations fill the grounds, and go on into the night, congratulations and revelry filling the air even as the sky darkens. Lena sits in the grass, in a moment of quiet, watching Julian shoo Rickard away from the desserts.

"My congratulations."

"Thank you." Lena looks up at the green-haired figure. "I was happy to have you, and for your assistance with the arrangements."

Palla smiles as she seats herself beside Lena. "It was the least I could do, after all you've done for us."

"You've all settled in well."

Palla nods. "I admit, it isn't the life I expected, but...but it's better, I think. And we're together."

Minerva and Maria are dancing, the latter on tiptoe and still not quite managing her sister's shoulder. Palla watches them, eyes soft in the firelight.

"I have not seen her so happy in so long," Palla says quietly, folding her hands in her lap. "I feared I never would again. But..."

Lena smiles. "Will there be another ceremony here, shortly?"

"I am hardly so crass to propose at another's wedding," says Palla. "But...but, if someday…"

"I am happy to officiate," Lena promises, and Palla beams, patting Lena's shoulder as she gets to her feet and walks towards the sisters. Lena watches them for a few moments, and is unsurprised when another sits down beside her.

"Big day?" Julian asks, slipping an arm around her waist.

"Somewhat," says Lena. "Did you manage to get Rickard subdued?"

"He knows he shouldn't have that much sugar at once," Julian grumbles. "One day he'll grow up."

Lena leans back against him. "Maybe."

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"Are you home?"

Lena looks out across the convent grounds. The townsfolk dance, and the children laugh, and Maria and Marisha applaud as Matthis hauls Rickard onto his shoulders. Minerva and Palla waltz, with eyes only for each other, and their mounts soar overhead, allowed to fly free. The sky dances with stars, and the summer grass is bright beneath their feet, and Julian's arm is warm behind her back.

They are healing, together. And love is in no short supply.

"Of course," Lena says, gently enough that only he can hear, and turns to kiss him, in the embrace of the wind and the night.

Lena is belongs to nobody, save herself and the gods, but she belongs, nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
